


somewhere along in the bitterness

by allapplesfall



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fix-It, Gen, Healing, Kara deserves better, canonical emotional abuse, i straight up sat down and wrote the bitterest petty thing i could, petty crack, so i gave her a support network again, thats not a tag but it should be bc thats what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9919949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allapplesfall/pseuds/allapplesfall
Summary: Kara's alone. She gets a letter.The people we love have a way of coming back to us, in the end.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm bitter. Sue me. I sat down and wrote 2.7k of pettiness in one sitting, just because I wanted Kara to be treated right. Is that a crime?

Kara hears the creak of hardwood, the light sound of paper on flooring, but she hardly has time to piece it together before a letter is being slipped under her door. It’s an envelope made of creamy white paper, the thick, expensive kind that Kara used to have to buy in bulk for work. Curious, she pads over and picks it up, turning it over in her fingers. On the front, a looping script addresses it to _Ms. Kiera Danvers._ On the back, a wax seal with a spiraling symbol crossed with an axe presses the flap closed.

Kara’s head hurts. The handwriting, the curve of the letters, _Kiera_ —all of it feels achingly familiar. There’s been a fog clouding her mind recently, right at the back of her skull, but now it’s pricking into dots of pain like crystalizing shards of ice. 

Running her index finger through the slit, she flips open the letter. Inside is just one slip of paper. On it, there’s an address, in the same curling font: _462 Respect Road_.

There’s no city—weird. No state—weird. No return address—really weird.

Biting her tongue, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, Kara considers the situation in front of her. A mysterious envelope, definitely on the sketchier side of suspicious, shows up on her doorstep. The little voice in her head, which sounds coincidentally a lot like Alex, tell her she should absolutely not do what she’s considering doing. The other part of Kara’s brain says hey, you know what, let’s go.

It may surprise you, but Kara can be a bit impulsive sometimes.

After shooting a text off to Alex that she feels like ‘going for a fly :D’, she pulls off her button-up and shucks her jeans. She runs at the open window, bursting out into the air, and her skirt flickers against her thighs. It’s mid-afternoon, and from the ground she looks like a cardinal wheeling through the sky, golden light gilding her edges. Kara hasn’t done anything for herself in such a long time that this single leap feels liberating.

Where can she find Respect Road? If she’d been thinking, she would’ve Google Maps’d it before she left, but now, with the wind buffeting her over the city, she can’t exactly pull out her phone. But there’s something, something in that aching place at the back of her skull, that gives her a nudge to the northeast. She steers in that direction for no other reason than that it _feels_ right. 

She flies like that for what feels like hours, letting her intuition guide her. She only slows when a thick fog rolls in, which would make sense if she’d hit San Francisco, but doesn’t really because instead of redwoods and hills she’s greeted with just this…flat. This vast expanse of flat, nondescript scrub grass, all layered with a heavy carpet of fog. Kara has to use her x-ray vision to see ten feet in front of her.

There hasn’t been any sign of civilization in like, twenty miles, until suddenly there’s a single cheerful house on a single raised knoll. A street stretches behind it for about thirty feet in each direction, but on both sides abruptly ends. Kara slows and then drops, her cape coiling around her ankles—whatever homing instinct is camping out in her brain is pinging like mad. What the heck is this house? Where is this place? She’s never seen anything on earth like it. Worry churns in her gut, because this is starting to feel less like _weird_ and more like _trap._

A figure catches Kara’s attention as her feet hit the dirt. They’re in the lee of what Kara now realizes is quite a large house; it’s cape cod style, but with large windows and a wraparound veranda. When she returns her attention to the figure, she’s startled to see that it’s Maggie, Alex’s Maggie, painting what looks like a handmade dining room table. Sunlight—somehow the fog is just _gone_ —glints off of beads of sweat on the skin bared by her muscle-tee. When Kara takes a hesitant step forward, Maggie looks up.

“Hey!” she calls, her cheeks dimpling in a grin. “You must be Kara. Lil’ Danvers, right?”

“I don’t…” Kara says. Her eyes flick up and down Maggie’s form, a crinkle forming between her eyes. The woman looks almost naked without a flak or leather jacket on. 

“The others said you’d be here soon.”

“Huh?”

Dropping the paintbrush down onto the grass, wiping the sealant off on her pants, Maggie comes closer. She sticks her hand out. “I’m Maggie. Good to meet you, kid.”

Kara stares at the hand, confused. “Maggie, I—I know you. You know me? We’ve met, you’re dating my sister.”

“Oh, right.” Maggie’s forehead furrows for a second, before she lets out a little laugh. “You know, maybe the others should explain.”

“What others? Maggie, what is this place?” Kara’s hands are twisting in a way that normally Supergirl’s wouldn’t. This situation has her off-balance, code-switching when she doesn’t even want to.

Maggie shakes her head, her smile still lingering. “Confusing as hell, I know. C’mon in, kid, they’ll explain. You know them.” She turns, waving for Kara to follow her inside.

The foyer of the house is minimalist. Faded blue walls, natural light, and dark-stained wood floors give the place a clean, calm vibe. Muddy sports cleats, kicked off by the door, as well as a staggeringly tall pair of high-heels, prove that people actually do live here. Kara runs her hands over the wall, staring at where a clear jar sits on a narrow shelf. Ashes sit inside, unadorned and unmarked.

“What’s that?” she asks. 

Maggie turns back. “Oh,” she says, her smile faltering. “I, um, don’t think you want to know.” She purses her lips, sympathetic. “Kitchen’s this way. D’you like veggie burgers?” 

Kara can’t bring herself to answer.

The kitchen is nice, with large bay windows and a cheerful bouquet on the dark granite countertops. At the cluttered table, two women sit opposite each other, one typing on a laptop and the other playing a game on her phone. They’re a blonde and a brunette respectively, comfortably quiet in each other’s company, and _ow_ , Kara’s head is suddenly killing her, she must make a noise because she’s never had a headache in her life and this is _agony._ Her hand comes up to cradle her forehead, even though it’s the back of her brain that’s throwing itself against her skull. 

The two women must hear her, because they look up. They’re tortuously familiar, but Kara feels like she’s trying to recognize them through an undulating pool of molasses. Why does everything _hurt_ so bad? What is this place?

The blonde tuts, standing. “Oh, Kiera,” she says. “What on Earth are we going to do with you?” 

“C-Cat?” Kara whispers, the name rising unbidden to her lips. “But…”

She staggers backwards, her mind reeling and her head thumping. The brunette stands now, concerned, but Maggie catches Kara gently by the top of her cape. She guides her into another room, helping her down onto a plush couch.

“Whoa there,” Maggie says. “You’re alright.”

“Wh-what’s…” Kara shakes her head, then instantly regrets it. The other two women from before, Cat and…Lucy, oh god it’s _Lucy_ , appear at each of Maggie’s elbows. “I don’t…” 

Cat shrugs gracefully, her lip curling. “I’ve only been gone for a few weeks, Kiera, _honestly_.”

The brunette— _Lucy_ —shoots her a look. “We’re so sorry, Kara,” she says. “We know this is hard to swallow.”

Kara tries to breathe past the lump in her throat. Needing something to squeeze, she grabs a pillow off the couch and holds it to her chest. “But how did I,” she stutters. “How did I forget you? Both of you?”

Lucy sighs.

“It’s not your fault, Kiera,” Cat says. Her voice is barbed, but Kara doesn’t think it’s directed at her. “Since my _departure_ ,” her hand finds her hip, “there have been a highly regrettable series of events that have spiraled far out of the control of anyone with sense. One of those circumstances was my apparent erasure from all aspects of your life.”

“And I just woke up here the day after Myriad,” Lucy says. “No explanation.”

Tears well in Kara’s eyes, though she bites her lip in an attempt to stop them from spilling over. “You two were… _gone_ ,” she says, her voice choked. “And I didn’t even remember you.”

“Kara, it’s _okay_ ,” Lucy implores. “We understand.” She sits down on the couch next to her, tucking her leg up. She puts a gentle hand on Kara’s back.

Cat stays standing, her hip cocked to one side. Maggie, who’s been watching with a troubled gaze, disappears back into the kitchen and starts clattering some plates. 

“What I do _not_ understand, however,” Cat’s voice is still sharp, “is that pathetic, manipulative manchild who has been playing for your sympathies.”

Lucy nods. “Yeah, he’s an asshole.”

Kara blinks hard. “Everything’s been so _fuzzy_ , I—” Another pang hits her head, keen and excruciating. She wishes her sister were here, because she respects Cat and Lucy and she doesn't want to cry in front of them, but she can’t help the whimper that’s torn from her chest. “I was so alone.”

Cat and Lucy each look devastated, though Cat tries to hide it by glancing away. “We know,” Lucy whispers.

And then Kara does cry, ugly sobs breaking out, tears streaking down her cheeks as her throat burns. It feels like there’s been a wasps’ nest buzzing inside her chest for the past month, choosing only now to break free. And, Rao, Rao—everything _hurts_? She can’t breathe, she’s doubled over and she can’t _breathe—_

Lucy’s arm wraps around her shoulders; Cat’s brittle fingers find Kara’s hand and squeeze so hard that Kara can actually feel it.

Ever since that pod popped open, ever since Mon-El popped out, Kara’s felt like she was ten feet under water, her lungs still being crushed by that first kick to the stomach. She’s been so isolated—even Alex’s been separated from her, somehow. But in this house, this impossible house in the middle of nowhere…. In this house, on this couch, with Cat and Lucy on either side, Kara finally starts to feel like she’s not drowning anymore. 

“He, he,” she says, trying to speak through her tears, “he told me I was selfish. I _felt_ selfish. I—but he had a point? I _like_ the attention, but…and he kissed me. He’s not terrible, he just needs direction. And I didn’t, I didn’t want to hurt him.” She sucks in a breath, but it hitches before she can get enough air.

“Kara,” Lucy says quietly. She cups Kara’s face with her cool, dry hand. “How he treated you, that’s _not okay_.”

On Kara’s other side, Cat nods tersely. “Men’s feelings are most definitely not your burden, Kiera. It’s not your responsibility to make him feel better, especially not when he hurts and gaslights you. Frankly, that’s unhealthily close to patterns of emotional abuse. And that, trust me, is not an easy road to climb back up from.” She gives Kara’s hand another squeeze.

Kara uses her free hand to wipe away at her tears, struggling to regain her composure. She takes a couple deep breaths. “You’re—you’re right,” she croaks.

Cat raises her eyebrows. “I typically am.” 

Drawing back her hand, Lucy tucks a strand of Kara’s hair back behind her ear. “We don’t blame you for this, Kara.”

Kara nods, still trying to wrap her head around everything. Eventually, she’s drawn back to that same essential question: “What is this place?”

Cat rolls her eyes. “Lord knows.”

“We showed up here after we disappeared from your life,” Lucy says. “It was me first, then Vasquez—she only just left, but I get the feeling she’ll be back. Max Lord was here for a hot second, but I kicked him to the curb.”

“I came next,” Cat appends. “Though this wasn’t exactly the next dive I was anticipating.”

“Where is here, though?” Kara asks. She casts her eyes around the room, as if the large flatscreen or ocean landscape will provide her with a precise GPS location. “I don’t understand.” 

“The where’s not exactly the most important, from what we can tell,” replies Lucy. “You’re _here_ , now, which is important. You’re safe.” 

“You’ve found Respect, Kiera,” Cat says. “Ridiculous the lengths it took to get it, isn’t it?” 

Kara looks between them. “I missed you guys,” she admits. 

“We missed you too,” Lucy says, smiling. 

Cat mumbles something that could possibly be construed as an echo of what the other two have said. 

“What was that?” asks Kara, a grin of her own forming.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Kiera. God, you remain exactly the same.”

“How’ve you survived without me, Ms. Grant?”

Cat lets out an exasperated sigh, but its effect is pretty much ruined by the fact that she’s still holding Kara’s hand. 

Maggie comes back into the room, holding a platter of veggie burgers and looking relieved to find that the crying is over. “Burger, anybody?”

They smell amazing, and Kara hasn’t eaten all day; she bounces in her seat. “Yes, please!”

Everyone takes one, eyeing each other happily around big bites. Maggie pulls up an armchair, and Cat settles on the couch. After four burgers, Kara feels recovered enough to start the conversation back up again.

“So, Maggie,” she says. “Why are you here? I mean, I kinda saw you yesterday.”

Maggie shrugs. “Technically, I’m not that Maggie? I’m myself, yeah, but before I met your sister. Apparently I don’t get mentioned.” 

“Oh.” 

“It’s alright.” Maggie’s dimples flash again. “These guys aren’t terrible company. Lucy can play a mean game of pickup soccer, that’s for sure.” 

“How do…um, how do only two people play soccer?”

“How does anyone play soccer?” Cat mutters, but this is clearly an issue she’s outnumbered on.

“It’s not just us that play,” Lucy clarifies. “Vasquez plays—or played, I guess, until she comes back—Sin, who lives twenty minutes away, she plays, M’gann plays, now that she’s here, and—” 

“M’gann’s here?” Kara asks, startled. “Really? Is she okay?”

Maggie nods. “She’s fine. She was taken a bit off-guard, y’know, being written off for no reason like that, but she’ll be okay. She went for a walk, but she should be back in a while.” 

“Oh,” Kara says, happily this time. “I’m glad. I was worried.” 

“Your friend James also plays their,” Cat curls her lip, saying the next word with utter disdain, “ _sport_.”

Kara leans forward. “Whoa, whoa, James is here, too? Where is he?” 

“Upstairs, in the attic. He’s writing. Since, if you’ll recall, he is a _journalist._ ”

Kara pauses. “I forgot.”

Cat rolls her eyes. “As did we all. Honestly, that _Guardian_? Tacky.”

“I thought the armor was cute.” Lucy’s smile crinkles her nose.

“You would,” Maggie laughs.

There’s a lull in the conversation, until another thought strikes Kara. “Wait, guys…but how and why am _I_ here?”

The three of them exchange glances.

Cat speaks up. “How are you here? I sent you a letter. But why.... I hate to break it to you, but you’re not actually Kiera.” She pauses, figuring out how best to phrase it. “You’re her independence, her agency. Unfortunately, you’ve been so absent that you’ve ended up here.” 

Kara feels like she’s taken a blow to the chest. “So I’m not really me.”

“You are,” Lucy says honestly. “You’re more you than the girl you left behind, honestly.”

“You’re safe now,” Maggie says. “I know what it feels like to be unsure about whether or not you’re a person, but trust me, you are.” 

“What’s…” Kara mulls it over. “What was that jar with the ashes, back in the entryway?” 

Lucy and Maggie look down.

“That is, essentially, the cadaver of something that we once found joy in,” Cat explains. “We’re the only ones who can protect it, anymore.” 

“I’m really sorry, Kara.”

Kara firms her upper lip, trying to stop it from shaking. She’s not as successful with her voice. “It’s, uh, it’s okay. Can—Can we hug?”

“’Course,” says Lucy.

The four of them stand, everyone grasping each other in a clumsy group hug. Cat gets in a possessive peck on Kara’s lips, Lucy gives Kara a suggestive kiss on the cheek, and Maggie presses her lips to Kara’s hairline. Kara just hugs them back, as fiercely as she can without hurting them. She sinks into their embrace, as they sink into hers—as they breathe together, Kara starts to believe them. 

Here, she can find happiness again.


End file.
